


Charming and Saintly

by ienablu



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Catholicism, Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen Cho attends Mass in Hell's Kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charming and Saintly

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking up patron saints and saw the patron saints for doctors, pharmacists, surgeons and thought "huh, what if Helen Cho was Catholic?"
> 
> Thanks to hauntedjaeger and qkd for their help on Catholicism and Korean culture, respectively.
> 
> Extended notes [here](http://hayes-district.dreamwidth.org/5940.html).

Upon arriving in any new city, there are three things Helen seeks out: the highest grade lab that's most easily accessible to her, a restaurant that serves authentic dak galbi, and a local Catholic church.

The last surprises most people.

Helen is not evangelical, despite her patron saint, but she is faithful. Sun or snow, jet lag or no, she attends Sunday Mass.

Due to the fact that Helen spends most of her time at her U-Gin lab in Seoul, most of her Masses are at the church at which she was baptized and later confirmed. After Seoul, her consultations with SHIELD brings her next most frequently to New York. After New York is U-Gin's growing branch in Los Angeles, and after Los Angeles is Geneva, and after Geneva is London. She is fond of all the cities, but Seoul is her home.

However, after Ultron, her lab in Seoul is need of renovation.

SHIELD wants to monitor her recovery from the influence of the specter, and Helen can resume her research within SHIELD's facilities just as well as she could in Los Angeles, and so Helen is relocated to Manhattan, her Cradle regenerating the tissue from the blast of Ultron. It takes a few days to readjust to being in the States, as well as go through debriefing and evaluations and examinations.

Sunday morning comes, and Helen wakes up early. Had her saint medal not been buried in her lab, she would fasten it around her neck. She puts on a dark skirt, a light blouse, a pair of modest heels, and pulls her hair back into a low ponytail. After a short walk, she catches the familiar subway route, climbs up the familiar subway steps.

Helen's breath catches in her throat as she catches sight of the spires of the cathedral. They grow larger and larger as she walks down the street, and she slows to a stop in front of the steps. She stares at the open double doors. In the pit of her stomach, the awe has turned into something else. 

Fellow parishioners flow around her. None that she recognizes at the moment – though at the moment, she feels hollow. She feels like she would not be able recognize herself if she saw herself. Like others would not be able to recognize her.

Helen turns around and walks back the way she came.

It's a quiet ride back to the apartment she subleases from SHIELD, and it feels far longer than the travel there. At the apartment, she takes off her heels, and changes into a pair of yoga pants and a loose t-shirt. SHIELD has been careful to respect her Sundays off, and barring any emergencies, they will not be calling her in.

It leaves her with an empty apartment, an empty day. Her chest feels empty without the gentle press of her medal necklace. An empty day, and she is far too aware of the fact this is the first Mass she has voluntarily missed since her Confirmation.

+

She misses the next three as well.

+

Psychology reviews are part of her daily work routine with SHIELD.

It goes well, until:

"Our records show that you have not been attending church."

Helen gives her psychologist a tight smile. "I understand," she starts, "that SHIELD is monitoring me. That you are looking into my well being to keep myself and others safe. I understand that, and more than that, I respect that. You have a right to my health and my wellbeing. But SHIELD has no right to my religion."

"You don't think that a crisis of faith is in the realm of your wellbeing?"

She draws herself up. "This isn't a crisis of faith."

"What is it, then?"

Post-traumatic stress. Referred pain, perhaps. She lived through something large and fantastical. Superheroes and super villains, the world in danger and her life nearly ended. But the world was saved and she survived. She lost something, but it was not her faith. "Personal," she says.

+

The next Sunday, she gets off at her usual stop, and once more stops at the steps of the cathedral.

But she can't turn around. Whether it's proving something to herself, to the SHIELD agent that is inevitably following her, or to Him, she can't turn around. Instead, she steels herself, and keeps walking down the street. There is another Catholic church in the area, she recalls from her research when she first looked into Manhattan so long ago.

Sure enough, the sign in front of the church informs her she's at the Holy Eucharist, and that service begins in just a minute.

She walks up the two steps, past the deep red doors, through the foyer. She dips her fingers into the holy water, and crosses herself. The last pew has a seat open, and so she hurries up the aisle, genuflects, quickly crosses herself again, and sits down.

Through the introduction rites, Helen feels at war with herself. Part of her has always felt self-conscious during her first Mass at a new church, and this is no exception. There's guilt, too, for leaving her old congregation. 

But there's also relief that comes with falling back into an old routine. She falls into unison with those around her, the routine of the introduction rites washing over her. For the first time in weeks, she feels truly comfortable, at peace with herself.

The Father breaks the bread, and Communion starts.

As the rows before her get up, Helen's hands clench in her lap. She does not feel as relieved as she once did.

When it comes to her pew, they all rise. On the aisle seat, Helen steps out first, and finds herself unable to take a step towards the altar. Instead, she takes a step back, watches as the rest of the row walks up the aisle. Her heart beats quickly in her chest. She takes one tentative step back, then a decisive step. She turns around, and she steps out of the nave, out of the foyer, out of the deep red doors.

There is a wooden bench in front of the church, and Helen gingerly sits down.

This is the first time she has not taken the host. She does not feel as though she could stomach it.

There's a slight flick against the side of her ankle.

"I am so sorry."

Helen looks down first, and sees the white tip of a cane at her feet. She looks up, and sees a young man with dark glasses staring at – no, facing her.

"Oh," Helen says. "Oh, don't worry about it."

He frowns. "I apologize – I don't think I recognize your voice."

She's glad he doesn't see her brittle smile. "This is my first time among this congregation. My name is Helen."

"Matthew." He switches his cane from his right to his left, and holds out his hand. She reaches forward and takes it. His palm is warm and dry, his fingers calloused against the back of her hand. "It is nice to meet you. What brings you to our church?"

Her heart thuds painfully in her chest. There are plenty of reasons, and plenty of lies. 

She cannot fathom going to the same church as though nothing has changed. She cannot fathom sitting amongst the same congregation as though nothing has changed.

She is not who she once was.

There's a void in her chest where Ultron's blast replaced her saint medal, and that void cannot be repaired with her Cradle.

“I was looking for a change,” she says, finally.

Matthew nods. “I hope you have been enjoying the change.”

With regards to her life, not at all. With regards to the church, “Yes, of course.”

"Do you mind if I sit?" Matthew asks. "I've not been feeling well. I thought it would be best to clear my head. I figure that God will understand."

"I've had to miss a few Masses due to medical emergencies. I believe God understands."

"Not your own, I hope."

"My patients."

"You're a doctor," he says, some note in his voice that she can't quite categorize. Surprise, and amusement, though not the condescending sort she is used to – it's more as if she's reminded him of something or someone, and he finds the similarity amusing. "Saint Cosmas, Saint Damian, Saint Luke?"

Helen smiles, and brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Saint Cosmas and Damian were canonized after my confirmation. Besides, I tried to cut my hair once when I was young, and only that once."

Matthew lets out a soft laugh. "Saint Luke, then."

Helen's hand reaches up to where her saint medal usually hangs. She involuntarily left it in Seoul. It wasn't the only thing. "Correct. And you? Is Saint Lucy too obvious a guess?"

He smiles. "It was her or Saint Yves." He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh. "The Sisters at the orphanage I was raised at made a few very compelling arguments."

She observes him for a moment. He’s wearing a suit and tie, which she had just attributed to Sunday Mass. "You've wanted to be a lawyer since you were a child? How is it suiting you?"

Matthew smiles. "Well. My partner and I run our own firm, Nelson and Murdock, in case you ever run into trouble. "

Helen huffs a laugh. SHIELD has a legion of lawyers, should the need ever arise. "I'll keep that in mind."

“You know,” he starts, after a few moments. He leans in and lowers his voice slightly, “Most people are a bit more surprised to find out I’m a lawyer.”

“You’re young. I am sure text-to-speech software would have been available to assist you with learning the material. It might take longer to study, but blindness does not impair dedication. I am more surprised, and impressed, with you running your own firm at such an age.”

He smiles. "Thank you." 

They sit together in silence for a few moments.

Helen takes a deep breath in, and sighs it out.

Matthew’s grip on the handle shifts. "The service should be ending. Would you like to speak to Father Lantom? He has guided me through many of my own troubles."

"I'm in no trouble," Helen says, though as she says it she comes to realize it's not true. She looks away from him. Down the street, she notices a familiar face. One of SHIELD's agents that she’s seen around. SHIELD has a right to her wellbeing, she understands why she merits a tail, and she is glad the agent has kept his distance.

The agent gives a small wave when he realizes he’s been made.

Helen waves back, and leans back fully against the bench. Turning back to Matthew, she says, “Though I may need to attend Confession. I missed the past few Sunday Masses.”

“If you wanted to talk to him, I’m sure Father Lantom would understand.” Quietly, he adds,  
“As would God.”

Helen reaches up to trace where her chain should lay. She scarcely understands what happened, but this is where faith comes in. “Yes,” she says. “I suppose He would.”


End file.
